The Plan
by Alltheabove
Summary: I needed to protect her.


**The Plan.  
>Oneshot.<strong>

Walls. Four Walls. Four Black Walls. Four blacks walls, one blood red ceiling, and a hard wood floor beneath me. All throughout the room lamps are placed, the red light bulb glowing inside and making the room mysterious with its unusual lighting. Right behind my butt bone there's a box of matches. The rest of the room is bare, just the way I like it.

I've been sitting in this same spot for exactly five days, 120 hours, 7200 minutes, 432000 seconds. I'm just waiting for the moment that I've planned over the course of six months to arrive. The moment that will choose the course of the rest of my life. That moment should come in exactly one quarter of an hour, 15 minutes, 900 seconds.

That moment, the moment that will last about thirty seconds, will be the time I make a decision. The decision will to either end my life and go to hell or send myself in the direction of prison. The two places I never imagined I would even come close to.

Because I've done the unthinkable. I've done the one thing that is so highly frowned upon by any person that even I'm frowning. I've been frowning for the past six months.

I've done the one thing that I didn't even think my hands were capable of. The one thing that six months ago I said anyone who could do such a thing had to be mentally ill. And maybe there is something wrong with me, maybe I'm so messed up in my head that it's beyond repair. And maybe I realize that I'm beyond repair, and maybe that's why I'm in this position. Choosing between death or prison.

Six months ago I formed a plan, a very long and well thought out plan. It was the perfect plan, obviously, because everything that I predicted would happen, has happened. I've not been wrong one step of the way. This apartment in the middle of Utah is exactly where I said I would be on February 12th.

The main point of my plan was to protect. That's what I planned to do, that's what I did, and that's exactly what I would do again if I had to. I protected the one I love, and that's all that matters in the end. Remember that.

After the main event of my plan I traveled from my home state of California to Utah, a state that I have absolutely no connections at all. I rented this apartment, painted the ceiling red, bought a few lamps, enough to eat off of for a couple months and waited. I waited five months before I allowed anything else to happen. That's when I sent my first letter.

It was sent to the LAPD, the police department that had basically given up on the case that involved me. I could've gotten away scotch free. But, that's not what my plan said for me to do. In my letter I informed the police that the person they were looking for was still out there, still within reach. I told them not to give up. And according to the news, and the scribbled writing in my planner, the search was reinforced. They were determined.

But, they still didn't know what they were doing. They had no idea where to look, or who they were even looking for. They were clueless. That's why when the search started to reduce I sent another letter, five days ago. They received that letter this morning at exactly eight. By nine they had private jet ready to fly them to Utah; I had told them my exact location.

And now I'm waiting, waiting for the exact time that I know a police squad will burst through the main lobby doors exactly two stories beneath me. That's the exact moment when I will make my decision.

I check the watch that's tightened around my wrist; I have exactly two minutes, 120 seconds.

I sit quietly, watching the clock slowly tick away. Unknowingly counting down my chance at life.

With thirty seconds left to go, I unhook my watch, flinging it toward the door. I stand up from my position on the floor, my bones aching from sitting in the same position for such an extended amount of time. When I'm standing upright, looking straight ahead at the black wall in front of me, taking in the light that resembles blood just a little too much I realize that the box of matches are in my hand.

The bustle starts downstairs, but I can only vaguely hear the trampling of their feet as they're coming up the stairway. My heart is thumping wildly, making the whole room seem as if there's a pounding vibration circling the walls.

The match is in my hand, swinging downwards toward the box. A dry gulp slides down my throat painfully, and before I know it the match is lit up, a bright flame in front of me.

My eyes wander over to the door, watching as the knob wiggles. They're here; ready to take me down for my crime. But, I've made my decision. I don't want them to take me down and punish me in their own ways; I want to punish myself the way that I know I deserve to be punished.

The match slides from between my fingers, hitting the floor effortlessly. The door to the apartment is knocked down, and just when the men start to rush into the room, their eyes focused on their target, the match flames come in contact with the gasoline that I've spread throughout the entire apartment. Flames burst up, a heat wave hitting me in the face. That's not even the beginning of what I deserve.

Closing my eyes, I step into the flames, my body falling to the ground in pain immediately. It's like nothing I've ever felt before. I scream out, wanting the pain to stop but knowing that this is what needs to happen.

I need to suffer through this and so much more.

And as the flames burn through my skin, slowly killing me, all I can think about is my beautiful daughter's face. Her precious, precious face.

I needed to protect her.

**A/n:** I've been going back to the murder books lately, it's a thing I do every once in a while. And while I was reading I remembered a certain one I read a while back, and well, this came about. It's weird, I know.


End file.
